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A Childhood's War On Xmas

A questionnaire I was recently given to help the powers-that-be, i.e. The Homeland, determine whether or not I can be trusted to deliver xmas presents to the unneedy.

It’s not about being a bitter old man. It’s not about happiness or tranquility. It’s not about a xmas tree making one smile or cry–depending on the xmas tree topper. Indeed. This is a time of year to rejoice–but NOT in what you think. As I celebrate my own personal war on xmas, I do so with a vengeance. I don’t have to, though. My war has long been won. I suppose it’s the nostalgia that keeps me doing it. Not unlike a soldier that hangs on to that uniform only so he can wear it in his dementia while revisiting the fields of Normandy or Khe Sanh. No. In fact, I have long been vindicated in my war-efforts. Being proven right in a sea of wrong has its limitations, though. How should I celebrate? Where can I go to sing my victory song? I suppose it doesn’t matter that I would prefer to sit on a plane during this time of year. How comfortable I’ve gotten in those lovely, devoid, lust-cramped seats on Airline A, B or C. I feel in those seats the same as I feel in life–perhaps I feel a bit more. It is the perfect setting for sitting the time away at the end of a year–yet another year. Is it me or does each year end just like the previous and just like the one forty years ago? Can’t there be something different to end a year? How about ending it with a final gesture? Like a claim to fame or a last minute open-ended vacation booking to another dimension or unearthly planet? Now that’s the ticket. But since resources are limited, I suppose it would not be appropriate to make such a gesture. Those who are more in need will turn their already preposterous bitterness into a dragon flame of demagoguery. They will assert themselves into the political realm and wield power of another kind. They will annihilate me, you and all that disagree with the/our war on xmas. Either that or they will win the redneck lottery and go about their business wasting it all–just as they were meant to waste everything anyway. Remember, in these days of the one percents and wealth inequality (that the democratic system has so eagarly and willingly facilitated) all that remains is the content of (y)our character. Which brings me ’round to my suggestion on how to end a year. I say end it with a mirror or end it with the proper questionnaire. Forget the romping through walmart and target and sears & roebucks or a local ben franklin five and dime. It’s your choice, dear worst-reader. Have a look at the self or the collective you’ve joined or answer a few questions so that a market research company can figure out what to sell you/us in 2016. Yeah. Questions about childhood seem appropriate at every year’s end. Because every year ends with everyone either believing or disbelieving in childhood. And with that mind, merry fucking xmas until we do it again next year. Rant on. -Tommi